The Candidate
by Jemmz
Summary: AU ficlet - If Ana was in Season 3, she would have been on the list.


**The Candidate**

"Get me the hell out of here!" Ana-Lucia yelled loudly, fighting against the rope that bound her wrists and the burly men that were forced to restrain her as she kicked and twisted and thrashed about in their strong grip. "Get offa me!"

Her head was covered with a bag of some sort, so between her screams and violent movements she had to gasp for breath and blindly fight for her freedom, whether it was possible or not. The men shoved her on to what felt like a wooden chair and made sure to tie her ankles to the wooden legs, though with her persistent kicking and jolting that proved more difficult then first anticipated.

When they were satisfied that she was secure, they let go of her and she grunted in frustration. She heard footsteps and the thud of a heavy door closing. She was alone. She took a brief moment to assess the situation: so, she had been kidnapped by the Others and forced in to being their prisoner. Were they going to kill her or torture her first? Was this what they did to Cindy? And how about the children? The thought made her sick, and she thrust herself backwards and forwards, trying to free her arms from behind the chair.

"I wouldn't do that, Ana," a familiar male voice told her. She shuddered and felt him move closer to her. It was only when he tore the sack off of her head that her suspicions were confirmed.

"You," she spat as she gazed in to the glassy, bloodshot eyes of the so-called Henry Gale.

"It's nice to see you again," he smiled eerily. Ana wanted to shoot him.

"You nearly killed me, you sonofabitch."

"A hasty decision, I admit. But I had to make my escape somehow." He paused and revelled in her sharp glare. "Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Benjamin Linus, and this island is my home."

He smiled feebly at her and she frowned, staring up at him with hate in her eyes. "_What do you want_?" she said slowly, making sure to pronounce each word carefully.

His smile vanished. "What I want is for you to co-operate, Ana. And from what I've seen already you're not very willing to do so."

"I will kill you," she swore, her fists clenching behind her.

He stared at her, tilting his head to one side, and approached her, kneeling down in front of her so that she could see every little bruise and scrape upon his battered face. "You're here because you were chosen, Ana. You don't know how important this is."

She had never heard such garbage. "And Sawyer, Jack, Kate…were they _chosen_ too?" she scorned.

"They're here for a different purpose."

"What about the kids? What have you done with them?"

"The children are safe. Don't worry about them. If you co-operate with us, you may see them again soon."

Her heart beat wildly. She knew she could never trust this crazy bastard. That would be betraying her gut sense, and her gut was usually right about this sort of thing.

"You know, all of this would have been explained sooner if you hadn't of killed Goodwin," he said, catching her eye. "But you're more of a shoot first, ask questions later kind of woman, aren't you?" She didn't like the way he was looking at her then. "It's actually that which makes you a good candidate."

She couldn't hide her surprise at the comment. "Candidate for what?"

He put a hand on the arm of the chair and grinned at her, as if it were obvious. "For being one of us," he told her simply. The expression on his face disgusted her.

One of _them_?

Was he _batshit_?

She spat in his face and glared knives in to him. If only she were free…She wouldn't make the mistake she had last time in not pulling the trigger. He blinked and wiped the moisture away with his sleeve.

"Do you remember how you and your people treated me when it was _me_ tied up in _your_ hatch?"

She ground her teeth together.

"You should reconsider what I've said, Miss Cortez. Or I promise you now, you'll regret it."

Her chest rose and fell quickly.

"I'll be back," he said, watching her carefully before turning to head for the door. She held her breath until the door closed and he was gone. Her wrists were sore and her legs ached, her head was swimming and she'd give anything for a decent meal.

But not _that_. Betraying her people and joining the enemy?

She'd rather die before she did _that_.


End file.
